


The Wolf's Disguise

by Smediterranea



Series: The Wolf's Vengeance [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, One Shot, Slow Burn, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Why can't I stop writing giant one-shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 00:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smediterranea/pseuds/Smediterranea
Summary: “Do you work here most days?” Gendry asks, pushing his luck.“I’m here tomorrow,” she says, cocking a brow at him.“Well, I don’t have a job anymore,” he says with a sigh. “Might as well come back here.”“I’m not giving you free fries again.”Gendry laughs. Perhaps today isn’t one of worst days of his life after all.Gendry gets fired, but the upside is meeting the new bartender at Harrenhal Pub. If only he could figure out whether she's into him, too.





	The Wolf's Disguise

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I turned Joffrey Baratheon into Joffrey Lannister to make life a little easier. His family situation is a real fucking mess to try to explain in modern AU’s so let’s not think about it too much, shall we? Onwards!

Gendry is finishing his fourth beer when a new bartender shows up.

He’s having a particular shitty day — probably up there in his top ten worst days ever — so he finds it hard to be polite. It doesn’t seem to matter much though; the bartender seems to be in as foul a mood as he is.

He’s tucked away in the back corner of the long bar. Only three other patrons are in the pub: an old man who looks like he lives here, and a couple in a booth near the front who Gendry suspects are in the process of breaking up based on the heated whispering and crossed arms. _Good_ , Gendry thinks. _At least no one else here is happy either_.

The bartender stomps around in heavy combat boots and ripped jeans. Her loose tank top falls away from her chest as she bends to grab a keg, revealing a black sports bra underneath. Gendry is surprised at her strength. She’s a good eight inches shorter than him and skinny, but she hoists the keg without much visible effort.

Her grey eyes lock with his and she stalks over to him.

“Another?” she asks, pointing at his beer. He can see a tattoo of a wolf on the inside of her left arm.

“Lager,” he grumbles back. The bartender nods and goes to pour him one.

“You got a tab open?” she asks as the golden liquid fills the glass.

“Waters,” he says. She hands him his beer.

“Cheers,” he says half-heartedly. 

The bartender gives him a long look. Her grey eyes are unnerving. Gendry feels like he’s being evaluated, but he doesn’t know what for.

“You just get fired?” she asks.

Gendry’s head rears back in surprise.

“Yeah, I… how did you know that?”

The bartender nods her head towards the chair next to him where Gendry has placed a cardboard box of his stuff. He’d had to hastily grab everything from his desk before security had escorted him out. There’s a messy stack of photos that had been pinned to his wall, headphones, a pair of sneakers, and a plastic wind-up toy of a bull that does backflips. The last item had been his prize for winning an arm-wrestling contest at the company picnic.

He had gotten a job as a mechanical engineer at a startup right out of college. He was beyond broke, deep in student loan debt, and eager to prove himself. He had done well in the past four years: gotten several raises, helped the company get outside funding, and had even been put in charge of a small team of other engineers. He had liked working there except for one massive problem: his boss was the biggest dickhead Gendry had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Joffrey Lannister was Gendry’s age and had the good fortune of having an extremely wealthy family. His grandfather, Tywin Lannister, was one of the richest men in Westeros, and it was he who had originally invested in the company. The pitch was to make improved prosthetic devices that incorporated haptic feedback. This would make it easier for users to apply the appropriate pressure when picking things up, pushing on doors, and other tricky movements. The company was headed up by a gray-haired man named Qyburn. It was still unclear to Gendry whether this was his first or last name; the man was a brilliant engineer, but he wasn’t the most sociable of people. Gendry didn’t mind and got on fine with Qyburn. It was the second-in-command, Joffrey, who was the problem.

It was abundantly clear to everyone that Joffrey had gotten his job through his grandfather’s influence. It was rumored that Tywin Lannister had funded the company almost entirely on the premise that Joffrey be given a job. Joffrey was a hopeless engineer, so he had been hired mostly as a manager and to help recruit sources of external funding, although Gendry thought that Joffrey was perhaps even less of a people person than Qyburn. Joffrey was abrasive, entitled, and occasionally cruel; he had made more than one entry-level employee cry and quit within their first week. He was a terror, and Gendry had borne the brunt of shielding his small team from Joffrey’s moods.

A recurring problem had been established. Joffrey would insist that Gendry’s team prepare a prototype in two weeks for an important meeting. Gendry would push back, insisting that there weren’t enough hours in the day for his team to complete the task. Joffrey would give them three weeks with a promise that they would get a break once they were done. Gendry and his team would pull late nights and weekend shifts to complete the prototype on time, only to have Joffrey put it aside.

“We haven’t quite figured out the angle we want to use with the investors yet,” Joffrey would say. And then he would assign Gendry another insane load of work.

Gendry was not a particularly patient or forgiving person. Growing up poor in a wealthy city like King’s Landing, he had little time for the whims of spoiled brats like Joffrey. He had told him so on many occasions.

“You can’t just assign us these tasks if you don’t know what you’re going to do with the products, Joffrey.”

“I’m your boss, _Waters_ ” Joffrey had sneered. “You have to do what I say.”

“But it’s a bad idea!” Gendry had fumed. “It doesn’t make sense to integrate new sensors yet if we don’t have the data proving they work properly.”

“Just get it done, Waters!”

“It’s a stupid idea, Lannister!”

They were frequently engaged in shouting matches. Gendry had to admit, it wasn’t a particularly professional way to handle himself, and he probably wasn’t doing a good job of diffusing the situation. Still, most of the time things ended up going his way — Joffrey’s ideas were rarely based in any sort of proof or quality control testing, so Qyburn would quietly pivot Gendry’s team to a new project.

But Joffrey had had the last laugh. Gendry couldn’t say he didn’t know some sort of retribution was coming, but he had been blindsided by the firing. He had spent all weekend at work — past midnight on Friday and Saturday night — in order to finish a project. It had been a normal Monday morning until lunchtime when Qyburn had called him into the conference room. Two men Gendry had never seen before were there, as was a smirking Joffrey.

“The company has decided to terminate your contract, effective immediately,” said one of the men in an expensive-looking suit. He had introduced himself as Ilyn Payne, legal counsel, although Gendry strongly suspected that he was one of Tywin Lannister’s personal lawyers rather than one retained by the company.

“Why?” asked Gendry, trying not to boil over with rage at Joffrey’s gleeful expression.

“Your frequent issues with authority make you a poor fit for our future vision,” continued Ilyn Payne.

Gendry had looked to Qyburn, who appeared almost bored.

“Seriously?” Gendry asked, hoping that Qyburn would back him up. 

“It’s out of my hands,” said Qyburn evenly.

“You’re the CEO!” Gendry said, perhaps a bit louder than he should have. The other enormous man in a suit raised himself up out of his seat. It was like watching a mountain sprout upwards in real time.

“I’m sorry, Gendry. We wish you the best of luck,” said Qyburn. 

And that was that.

The mountainous man had lurked behind Gendry as he had packed his things, hands shaking with rage. His poor teammates watched on, helpless. 

“This is bullshit,” they whispered to him.

“We’re going to fight to get you back,” they promised.

“Don’t fucking bother,” Gendry had snapped back. “You should get out of this shithole while you can.”

He had stalked out of the building with his head held high and had gotten halfway home before he slowed to a halt. He couldn’t make himself move forward; going home at 1PM on a Monday would make this real. He would have to face the fact that he had been fired, he had lost his only source of income, and there was no way he was going to get a good recommendation as long as Joffrey was around to field calls. Starting to panic, he ducked into the closest pub and ordered a lager. He wasn’t usually a big drinker, but he just needed somewhere quiet to think for a bit, and the pub seemed as good a place as any.

Gendry looks up at the bartender and sighs.

“Yeah, I got fired,” he admits.

The bartender says nothing and disappears into the back. He wasn’t exactly expecting great hospitality at this seedy pub, but he’s still a little disappointed to be left alone so abruptly.

She comes back a minute later with a heaping basket of fries from the kitchen. She sets them down in front of him.

“On the house,” she says.

Gendry glares at her.

“I don’t need pity fries,” he grumbles.

The bartender glares back. “Fine, but you’re keeping them out here so I can eat them. I’m fucking starving.” She shoves a few fries in her mouth and stomps over to the couple in the booth who seem to require more alcohol to fuel their breakup fight.

Gendry sulks for a moment before he grabs a few of the fries for himself. In all the chaos, he had forgotten to eat lunch, and five beers on an empty stomach, even when spaced over the afternoon, is a recipe for disaster.

When she comes back over to the bar, Gendry feels his anger leave him.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “The fries are good.”

“Got the best pub food in town,” she says, grabbing a few more fries. “Although you wouldn’t guess it looking at this place.” She wanders over to the other end of the bar where a group of patrons have come in for happy hour.

Before Gendry can think of a response, his day takes a turn for the worse.

Joffrey Lannister, flanked by some of his cronies, has just walked in.

He spots Gendry immediately, his eyes narrowing like a snake. A wide, cold smile spreads across his face.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls. “Look who we have here.”

Gendry is about to ask how Joffrey found him, but he strongly suspects that the mountainous man who escorted him out of the building had also followed him for a bit. 

“Get lost, Joffrey,” is the strongest comeback he can muster.

“Oh, come on, you can’t be _surprised_ at what happened today, can you? You’ve been missing deadlines for weeks.”

“No, I haven’t,” Gendry says through gritted teeth.

“Oh, well that’s what I told Qyburn. Guess there was some sort of misunderstanding. How… _unfortunate_.”

Gendry stands up abruptly, knocking his chair back. Joffrey looks startled, but his cronies square up, ready to fight. Before anything can happen, the bartender reappears. 

“Get out of here, Lannister,” she snarls.

Gendry turns to look at her, surprised. Joffrey is staring at her too, but after a moment his expression turns smug and calculating once again.

“Arya Stark… what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“I said get out.” Her expression is as cold as ice. Gendry feels a shiver shoot through him and he is very, very glad it’s Joffrey in her crosshairs and not him.

“But I want a pint of beer, Stark. Seeing as how you’ve _debased_ yourself working here, it’s your job to fetch it for me.” He pulls out a bill from his wallet and waves it tauntingly at her.

The bartender — _Arya_ , Gendry reminds himself — moves so quickly that it’s hard to piece together what has happened before it’s over. Arya hops over the bar and slides across it. In one fluid motion, she grabs Joffrey’s outstretched wrist and uses her momentum to whirl him around, pinning his arm behind his back. Joffrey’s cronies stare openmouthed as Arya rapidly marches Joffrey through the door and shoves him out. 

“ _You bitch_!” Joffrey snarls, turning on her.

Just then, a large figure appears behind Joffrey. As he turns to look up behind him, Arya’s voice rings out.

“Hodor! Keep this lot out of here. They’re banned.”

The big man nods. Gendry can only assume Hodor is a bouncer who’s just shown up for the evening crowd. Gendry watches as a livid Joffrey marches away down the street.

He settles back into his chair as things click into place.

“Arya _Stark_ ,” he says. “Do you have a sister?”

A strange look passes over her face. “What about her?”

“I think I’ve met her,” Gendry says. “Sansa, right? She used to hang around Joffrey.”

Arya rolls her eyes. 

“She has the worst taste in men.”

Gendry had to agree. Around the time when Gendry had started working at the company, their whole group would go out for Friday happy hour. Occasionally, Sansa had been there, fawning over Joffrey. Gendry had not had a very high opinion of her — anyone who could stand Joffrey’s smarmy personality was not someone Gendry wanted to befriend — but she had at least always been polite to him. Joffrey’s charm wore off after a while, and although Sansa was still around, she seemed less and less happy about it. The final straw had come one night when Joffrey had been joking about Sansa’s dog.

“You want to spend more time with your _dog_ than with me,” he whined.

“I just need to go home and take her on a quick walk. I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” Sansa had explained.

“I should just shoot the damn thing, get it over with,” Joffrey joked.

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Sansa said coldly. Gendry was surprised how icy her voice was, her face frozen in anger.

“What’s the best way to kill a dog?” Joffrey mused, oblivious to Sansa’s ire. “I suppose I could feed it chocolate, but that’s just a waste of food. I guess you could just _stop_ feeding it — it’s too stupid to figure out how to feed itself. Or you could drown it, but that works better if they’re puppies —“

_SMACK_

Before Joffrey could even blink, Sansa Stark had slapped him hard across the face and stormed out. Gendry had never seen her again.

Now, sitting across the bar from her sister, he feels a grin tug at his face for the first time all day.

“She slapped him once,” Gendry tells Arya.

Arya grins wolfishly, and a jolt of arousal shoots through him. He feels suddenly dazed, like he’s the one who has been hit in the face.

“Yeah, Sansa’s gotten a lot cooler since then,” Arya continues, not seeming to notice Gendry’s glassy expression. “She’s big into philanthropy — I always thought it was kind of a stupid excuse to wear fancy outfits and eat hors d’oeuvres all day, but she’s really good at it. Gets all those high and mighty rich people to donate to good causes and stuff. She’s helped open three different shelters for victims of domestic abuse.” There’s a note of pride in her voice that Gendry finds just as endearing as her smile.

“Aren’t _you_ a high and mighty rich person?” he asks, and immediately regrets it.

The cold look on Arya’s face clashes with the blazing fire in her eyes. Gendry wonders if he’s about to get kicked out of the pub as well.

“How can I be when I’ve _debased_ myself by working here?” she says, imitating Joffrey’s tone.

“But you’re here because you _want_ to be, not because you _have_ to,” Gendry replies. He wishes he knew when to shut his damn mouth.

Arya glares at him, and tries to grab the basket of fries away from him. Gendry snags it back at the last second, sending a few stray fries flying.

“Thought you said you didn’t want ‘pity fries,’” Arya snarls.

“The bartender told me I had to keep them here because she was hungry,” Gendry says, raising an eyebrow.

Arya stomps off, presumably to serve other patrons who aren’t being assholes. Gendry sits back and eats more of the fries.

He realizes he struck a nerve, and part of him regrets it. He was impressed by the speed at which she had dispatched of Joffrey and his lackeys, and had to admit she was pretty hot when she was angry. He wouldn’t mind getting to know her better, but he’s always been distrustful of rich people pretending to slum it. Gendry had seen it plenty of times, especially when he was growing up. Wealthy men liked to date his mom, pretending that they would save her from being a poor, single mother, and then they would get bored of the fantasy and disappear back into their upper-class world. Gendry wondered if that was the case with Arya. If memory served correctly, her family was not only rich, but very well connected. Joffrey had bragged about it when Gendry had been unimpressed that his sort-of-girlfriend’s last name was Stark.

“How have you never heard of the Stark family?” Joffrey had scoffed. “They’re one of _the_ founding families of all of Westeros. Not as important as the Lannisters of course… Their father, Ned Stark, is one of the head judges in the north — they say he might be up as a candidate for the Supreme Court, but he just doesn’t have the head for the politics involved, if you ask me. And the older brother, Robb, is the youngest ever mayor of Winterfell. Now _he’s_ got a handle on the politics thing, but his policies are crap. All this helping the homeless and mentally ill people shit — who cares?”

Gendry had tuned the rest out. Now he watches as Arya returns to the bar and angrily pours drinks. When she comes back to his section, he holds out the basket of fries.

“Peace offering,” he explains.

“How generous of you to offer me the free fries that _I_ gave you,” she spits back.

“I’m Gendry,” he says. “Thanks for being nice to me since I got fired.”

Arya’s expression softens a bit, and she reaches out to grab some fries. 

“Was it one of Tywin Lannister’s companies? Is that how you know that fucking prick Joffrey?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Gendry says. “QB Haptics.”

Arya pulls a face. 

“What the hell is ‘haptics’?”

Gendry explains, pausing as Arya flits around the bar to refill drink orders. It isn’t too busy so Gendry gets a chance to talk to her for a while. He’s not surprised that she’s a little closed off —she’s at work, and there are probably strangers trying to pry into her life all the time — but she asks him questions and tells him about the best and worst customers she’s ever had to deal with.

“Do you work here most days?” Gendry asks, pushing his luck.

“I’m here tomorrow,” she says, cocking a brow at him.

“Well, I don’t have a job anymore,” he says with a sigh. “Might as well come back here.”

“I’m not giving you free fries again.”

Gendry laughs. Perhaps today isn’t one of worst days of his life after all.

 

—

 

Gendry comes back the next day, and the day after that.

He discovers on the third day that the bar actually has a name — Harrenhal Pub — but the sign above it is so old and faded that it’s hard to read. The bar is kind of a dump. The beer is cheap and the fries are good, but every single table is wobbly and scratched. There’s a jukebox in the corner that Gendry suspects hasn’t been in working order for a good ten years given the amount of dust it has accumulated. The pub probably isn’t the best place to bring his laptop for job hunting, but there’s a feeble WiFi signal and he gets to sneak glances at Arya every so often.

He’s trying to search for jobs in the area and is fully panicking about it when Arya plonks a second glass of a red ale in front of him.

“I didn’t order another beer,” he says.

Arya shrugs.

“You look like you could use a drink,” she says evenly.

“I can’t afford to be drinking here all day,” he admits. “And don’t say it’s on the house. You’re going to get in trouble if you give me more free stuff."

Arya fidgets a bit. He can tell even though she claims not to be like all those other rich people, she’s never really had to worry about bills. He only resents her a little for it.

“Fine, then. It’s on me.”

“Arya…”

“Come on, Gendry. It’s boring here before happy hour. Take my drink bribe and talk to me.”

“Fine,” Gendry groans. “What do you want to talk about?”

“What are you working on?” she asks.

“Job applications,” he says glumly. “Like anywhere in King’s Landing will want me now that Joffrey has probably trashed my name all over town.”

“Why stay in King’s Landing?”

“I grew up here,” says Gendry honestly. “I went to school here. I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“Don’t you want to try someplace new?”

Gendry shrugs, a little uncomfortable about where this conversation is going. 

“I guess,” he says awkwardly. “But I don’t know anyone outside of King’s Landing and moving is expensive. I don’t know, I just… I feel like I should have a plan for my life but I don’t know where to start.”

“You’ll figure something out.”

“What about you? What’s your plan?”

“Who says I have one?” Arya replies, and she saunters off to pour someone a drink.

The next morning, he’s surprised to see her again, but not at the bar. It turns out she goes to the same gym as him, but he’s never seen her there because he’s usually already at work at ten in the morning. He sees now how she can lift kegs so easily. She’s dripping with sweat and panting as he approaches her, but she gives him a glowing smile.

Gendry finds it very inconvenient to feel this turned on at the gym.

Somehow, she ropes him into lifting weights with her and makes him promise to meet her the following morning to work out with her. Gendry had briefly considered canceling his gym membership to save money until he had a new job, but the possibility of spending more time with Arya is worth it. Plus he needs something to counteract all the fries and beer he’s consuming at Harrenhal Pub.

He falls into a pattern: work out in the morning with Arya, then spend the rest of his day compiling cover letters and job applications to send out. If Arya is working at Harrenhal, he sets up camp there. On her off days, Gendry finds he can’t stay longer than an hour before he gets bored — he misses her frequent interruptions and demands that he entertain her in between customers. Plus, Arya lets him nurse a single beer for hours; the other bartenders glare at him for not ordering more than one drink and taking up space at the bar.

He admits to himself that he is hopelessly attracted to Arya, but he can’t bring himself to ask her out. He has to stay within his meager budget — he can’t afford to be taking her out on nice dates. He suspects that Arya would not care about the price of a restaurant, but Gendry cares. He’d rather enjoy the company of her friendship than fall short of being the type of attentive boyfriend he wants to be.

Besides, Arya surrounds herself with such an air of mystery that Gendry can’t be sure she is even attracted to him at all. He’s sure that she at least enjoys having him around — Arya does not seem like the type of woman who tolerates the company of people she dislikes — but beyond that, it’s hard to tell. He’s caught her checking out his ass and his biceps a few times, but they were at the gym, so it could be perfectly reasonable that she was just being a good gym partner and watching his form.

At the start of week three of unemployment, Gendry catches Arya reading a book underneath the bar. He’s surprised he hasn’t noticed before — although she often asks him to distract her at work, there are long periods where they are both quiet. Gendry supposes he’s just been so absorbed in his job-hunting madness that he had never noticed what Arya was doing.

When she goes to wait on a table near the door, Gendry gets up and reaches over the bar to grab the book.

 _Strategies and Tactics for the Westeros Bar Exam_ reads the cover.

“You’re taking the bar exam?” Gendry asks her, stunned.

“Give me that,” she says, snatching the book out of his hands. “Stop snooping.”

“Seriously, ‘Arry. Are you studying law?”

Arya gives him a murderous glare. Fortunately, Gendry has become somewhat immune to these looks and now realizes that the glare is only to cover up her embarrassment. 

“If you must know,” she says imperiously, “yes, I am. But I’m not going to be one of those fucking corporate lawyers,” she hastens to add.

“Of course you aren’t,” Gendry replies, slightly miffed she would assume he would think that. “What type of law do you want to practice?”

Arya fidgets. “I want to work for the Westeros Civil Liberties Union,” she says quietly.

“Fight for the little guy, huh?” Gendry grins at her. “That’s awesome, Arya. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugs, looking uncomfortable. 

“It’s not a big deal. Didn’t think you’d care.”

Gendry frowns. 

“This is important to you, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s important to me.”

Arya gives him a shy smile, so unlike the lupine grin she usually fixes him with. He feels his heart turn over in his chest.

He’s got it really, really bad.

 

—

 

Almost two months have passed, and Gendry still can’t find a job in King’s Landing.

He has four interviews, all of which go well, but they ultimately tell him he’s “not a good fit” or “not what they’re looking for right now.” He tries not to feel disheartened, and he knows he’s got enough money saved to last him for another few weeks, but he’s seriously considering picking up something part-time just in case. When he jokingly asks Arya if there are openings at Harrenhal Pub she blanches.

“You can’t work there,” she says, her mouth set in a hard line.

Gendry doesn’t push it. He’s not sure what would be so bad about working at the pub — he spends a lot of time here anyway — but he figures he’ll give the job search one last push. He applies to jobs outside of King’s Landing on the off chance they’re interested. They’re all long shots or dream jobs, but Arya keeps nagging him to at least give it a chance. He hits send and tries not to think about it.

He shows up to the gym at the usual time one morning and Arya isn’t there. She isn’t at Harrenhal Pub later either. He tries again the next day and she’s absent from both. Gendry feels like an idiot — he doesn’t even have her number to text her if she’s okay — but he can’t help himself from lingering at Harrenhal when the evening bartender shift starts, hoping she’ll make an appearance.

She does, but she’s not there to work. She’s dressed in sweatpants, her short hair tied up in a ponytail that has stray hairs sticking out all over. She looks exhausted, but pleased.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asks.

“Bar exam,” she answers, slumping into a chair next to him.

Gendry goggles at her, open mouthed.

“You took the _bar exam_ today?”

“And yesterday,” she says, swiping a sip of his beer. 

“How did it go?” he says, stifling his amazement. By now he knows not to be offended that she didn’t tell him beforehand. It just meant she had been really, really nervous about it.

Arya gives him a shaky smile. 

“Okay, I think. Maybe even good? I don’t want to get my hopes up,” she admits quietly.

“Arya, that’s… that’s great! We should celebrate, go get a drink… Maybe not here though…” he says, looking around at the gloomy lighting.

“I know a place,” Arya says, downing half of his drink. Gendry downs the other half and they set off.

To his surprise, Arya doesn’t lead him to a bar, but to an apartment building a few blocks away. As he follows her inside, they climb up the stairs to the top floor.

“Is this your place?” he asks, curious.

“Yeah,” she says, opening the door. “I’ve got beer in the fridge and I _really_ don’t want to go anywhere in these sweatpants.”

The door swings open and Arya flicks on the light. It’s a tiny studio apartment. The walls are covered in posters — old bands, soccer teams, signs from feminist rallies — and a number of small plants line the windowsill. There’s a door to a small bathroom off to the right, but the rest of the space is just one room. Gendry takes the beer Arya offers him and looks for a place to sit, but the apartment is so small that the only options are either a solitary chair stacked high with books or the bed.

Arya flops down on the bed and Gendry hesitates. She lets out a contented sigh and he has to fight down the urge to do something insane, like kiss her.

She rolls over to make room and pats the bed. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s watch something.” There’s a screen affixed to the wall across from the bed, and she switches it on.

“I always fall asleep during movies,” Gendry confesses, sitting tentatively on the edge of the bed.

“It’s cool,” says Arya lazily. “I’ll wake you up. Now come on, you’re making me feel bad for not being able to sit up.”

“I didn’t take a test all day,” he says, but he lies back nonetheless. 

Gendry manages to stay awake for the entirety of _Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure_ , mostly because Arya rolls sideways and snuggles into his side. His heart races in anticipation, but Arya seems perfectly content where she is, and Gendry decides perhaps the ideal time to make a move on the woman of his dreams is not when she’s spent the day taking one of the biggest tests of her life. He settles in, wraps an arm around her, and falls asleep halfway through _Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey_.

When he wakes up, sunlight is streaming through the window and he is alone in Arya’s bed. He can hear the rush of the shower and he tries very, very hard not to think about her naked in there. He only partly succeeds.

He’s checking his phone, trying desperately to distract himself, when Arya emerges from the bathroom. She’s wearing a pair of ripped jean shorts and a cropped shirt. Gendry itches to touch the pale expanse of her stomach peeking out to tease him.

“Morning,” says Arya lazily, toweling her damp hair. “You sleep okay?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Gendry stammers, frozen in place. The sight of her lean legs is making his brain short circuit.

“You got plans for today?” she asks.

“Not really,” Gendry says, sitting up. “Maybe we should actually celebrate your finishing the bar exam. Last night was fun, but you deserve an actual party. We could go get breakfast or something?”

Arya gives him that same wolfish grin that makes blood simmer with excitement.

“Yeah, all right,” she says, coming to stand in front of him. “You’re sitting on my sweatshirt.”

“Oh!” Gendry jumps up, grabbing the sweatshirt. He hands it to her, but she doesn’t take it. She’s eyeing him curiously, and it makes his heart pound even harder.

“What were you doing at the bar last night?” she asks.

“Oh,” says Gendry dumbly. He feels like all the air has left the room. Her eyes are boring into him, pinning him in place. “I was… I was looking for you.”

Ayra cocks her head. 

“Why?”

Gendry’s brow furrows. 

“Because I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you.”

He’s still clutching her sweatshirt as she leans up to kiss him. She gently pries it out of his fist and winds her arms around his neck. As his brain catches up to what is happening, Gendry pulls her to him, fingers grazing over the smooth skin exposed by her short shirt.

They tumble backwards onto the bed. Arya grins down at him as he gazes up at her, feeling dazed. 

“Why don’t we just celebrate here?” she whispers.

Gendry molds his mouth to hers, groaning as she shifts in his lap. She kisses him hungrily at first, but slows as he runs his hands gently up and down her back. He breathes her in: the smell of her clean skin, the feel of damp tendrils of hair brushing his face, the sound of her soft sighs as he moves to cup her breasts.

This is the best celebration Gendry has ever been a part of.

Neither of them are particularly patient people, and yet they both seem reluctant to move, content to trace the outline of the other. A part of Gendry finds it hard to believe this is actually happening — he’s spent weeks imagining what it would be like to kiss her and now she’s pressed on top of him. He can feel the blood rushing through his body, thrumming in exhilaration.

Arya’s patience eventually wears out. She pulls away from him and lifts off her shirt. She’s not wearing anything underneath it and Gendry hopes his eyes aren’t bugging out of his head. It’s not like he hasn’t seen breasts before, but there’s something about the fierce expression on her face, the heat in her eyes, that takes his breath away. She stands and steps out of her shorts, clad only in a small scrap of black fabric. Before he can get his bearings on the situation, her nimble fingers are making deft work of his belt and pants.

“Wait,” Gendry gasps, and Arya stills, hands poised at the top of his jeans. “You sure about this?”

“Why do you think I invited you up here last night?”

Gendry lies back and feels like his face is going to crack in two from smiling. Arya smirks at him and sprawls out next to him on the bed.

“It would be more efficient if you took your own pants off,” she says.

“Right.” 

He stumbles a bit trying to yank off the left leg of his jeans, and there’s that awkward moment when he has to take his socks off (he’s never quite figured out a sexy way to do that. Perhaps it’s impossible). He strips off his shirt and he doesn’t miss the hungry look on Arya’s face. It’s the same one she’s been giving him at the gym these past two odd months, and he can’t believe he ever thought she was just idly making sure his bench press form was correct. He keeps his boxers on, trying to follow her lead, but her wolfish smile is back.

“You won’t need those,” she says, and he realizes that sometime between removing his socks and his shirt, she’s gotten completely naked.

It’s always a bit of a nerve-wracking moment, getting naked in front of someone new. But there’s something about the way Arya is looking at him, both in a challenge and in acceptance, that makes him feel like he’s a thousand feet tall. As he steps out of his boxers, Arya stares at him unabashedly, and it feels like liquid fire is coursing through his veins.

“Impressive,” she says, and laughs as his cock twitches a little under her gaze. She laughs so hard there are tears glimmering the corners of her eyes.

“Alright, alright,” grumbles Gendry as he topples onto the bed next to her. “Stop laughing at my cock.”

This sets Arya off again, giggling helplessly. Gendry feels punch-drunk with happiness; he’s never seen Arya laugh like this. It’s an intoxicating aphrodisiac. 

As she calms down, Gendry presses soft kisses into her neck, on her breasts, down the plane of her stomach. He reaches the silky skin of her inner thighs and looks up at her. She looks a little punch-drunk too.

“Ground rules,” she says a little breathlessly. “I’m clean. You can go down on me, but your cock requires a condom to get in. Non-negotiable.”

“Agreed,” Gendry says. “Also clean, for the record.”

“Safe word?”

“Er…”

Arya doubles over in laughter again. “Your face!” she cries. “Gods, what did you think I was going to do to you?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckles. “I’ve seen you lift weights, and I remember you going after Joffrey — I bet you’re capable of doing what you want with me.”

Arya’s eyes darken and she pulls him to her. He can feel every inch of her pressed against him and it’s all he can do not to rut into her.

“Next time,” she grins wickedly, “we can figure something out. For now,” she pushes him lightly off of her, “we can play nice.”

“I’ll be nice,” he says slowly. “In fact, I think I said something about a proper celebration…”

He lowers his face and presses his lips to her inner thigh, savoring her harsh intake of breath. It’s a relief to know she’s as affected as he is, and he kisses and nips his way to her center. He swipes his tongue over her once, twice, and she sighs as her legs fall open to him.

Gendry has always been a hands on learner. He enjoys working with machines because he gets instantaneous feedback; if it works, good, and if not, he can adjust. He applies the same methods here, pressing forward as Arya moans, sliding his hands up to tease her breasts. As Arya starts to impatiently tug at his hair, Gendry moves his hand and slides a finger into her. He grins against her as she arches off the bed, and he resumes his relentless licking, sucking, worshipping of her. By the time he slides in a second finger, she’s moaning his name and he can’t remember ever being more turned on in his life. 

She shudders around him with a cry. Gendry waits as she comes down. Her head lolls to the side to grin at him but before she can say anything, Gendry resumes his task, coaxing his fingers to slide against her walls. A few moments — minutes, hours, it’s all the same to Gendry now; the moment seems to last forever and pass in an instant — she’s crying out again, legs trembling as she pulls his hair.

“Shit,” Arya breathes as Gendry wipes his face on the back of his hand. “No one has ever made me come like that,” she says.

Gendry supposes that’s something most people say to a new lover, an easy way to assure and inspire someone. But Arya has never been one for false compliments, so he has to assume it’s true. If it is, everyone else has been missing out, because watching Arya Stark in the throes of ecstasy is easily the most erotic thing Gendry has ever seen.

He flops down next to her on the bed, smiling softly at her sleepy grin. Arya pulls him in for a long, tender kiss and Gendry feels his emotions spinning away from him a little. He’s falling too deep, too fast, but Arya is like a tidal wave carrying him away, and he’s too happy to think about what the fluttering in his stomach means.

She rolls away from him to rummage around in her bedside table.

“Aha!” she cries, holding a foil packet aloft. “Found a condom, thank the gods. Annnnd, not expired. We’re good. Want me to warm you up first?” Her hand snakes down to grab him and Gendry can’t keep a moan from escaping his lips.

“Better not,” he says, using every last shred of willpower he has as she strokes him up and down. “You’re way too hot, and I’d like to finish your celebration first.”

“You gonna fire some cannons in my honor?” she says, waggling her eyebrows at the innuendo.

Gendry rolls his eyes, but grins at her. 

“Yeah. A really big one.”

He rolls the condom on and Arya climbs on top of him.

“This okay?” she asks.

“Oh yeah,” he says fervently.

They both groan as she slides down onto him. He watches her small breasts bounce as she slowly rides him, moving his hands to play with her nipples. She’s distracted by the sensation and he thrusts up into her. She falls forward onto him with a moan and he feels a smile tug at his lips. Arya is magnificent above him. Her hair is wild and her skin glows as the sun rises higher into the apartment. They take it in turns: Arya grinding down on him, and Gendry thrusting up into her as she gasps in his ear. 

He feels his release building; he is drowning in her and he is happy to do it. He reaches a hand between them and rubs her clit.

“Gendry, Gendry, Gendry,” she chants as she comes, shaking above him. 

He’s beyond words, beyond thinking, beyond control, but he hears himself gasp her name as he comes inside of her.

“ _Arya_.”

She rests her head against his chest as they both struggle to catch their breath. She presses a soft kiss at the base of his neck and he feels dangerously close to telling her something really stupid, like he loves her.

She pulls away from him, but he’s still buried inside her when she asks, “I believe you said something about breakfast?”

 

—

 

It’s easily the best week of his life.

Arya takes off work at the pub, and Gendry resolves to take a break from the job hunt before he gets burned out. He confesses to her that as much as he wants to join her in a week-long celebration, he’s still broke and can’t exactly go galavanting around King’s Landing.

Arya rolls her eyes at him.

“Do you have money for condoms?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Then we’re all set.”

“‘Arry, we can’t fuck all week long.”

“Challenge accepted!”

They _do_ spend a good deal of time in bed together, but they manage to pry themselves apart to enjoy the bright summer sun of King’s Landing. Gendry takes her to his old neighborhood and they eat cheap barbecue ribs slathered in thick brown sauce. Arya leads him around the old, expensive parts of town and points out the interesting architecture. She confesses that her mother had wanted her to minor in art history, and even though Arya had never cared much for paintings or sculpture, she did always like the history of old buildings. They sit together in the shade of every park in the city, watching the clouds and rummaging in the grass for four-leafed clovers. One memorable afternoon, they go to the beach and scramble over the rocks. Arya finds a secluded cave behind the boulders and gives Gendry the best blowjob he’s ever had in his life. He follows her back over the rocks on shaky legs as she teases him.

It feels like a dream, and he has to try harder and harder not to confess the depths of his feelings for her. He doesn’t want to scare her off, so he does his best to enjoy her company and hopes he can tell her in time.

On her Monday return to the bar, Gendry opens his laptop and lets out a yelp.

“What is it?” she asks, polishing a pint glass.

“I got a job interview…”

“Gendry, that’s great!”

“In Storm’s End.” 

Arya doesn’t bat an eye.

“That’s fantastic. When’s the interview?”

“They want me there Wednesday… I have to call them.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Gendry steps outside to arrange his interview and travel plans. His stomach squirms a bit — it would be a great opportunity, but he hadn’t really thought he’d get the interview. He’s not sure if he even _wants_ to move to Storm’s End, away from his home, away from Arya…

But he’s getting ahead of himself. Who’s to say they actually want him?

The interview goes well. Really well. Gendry can’t help but feel excited. It’s exactly the type of work he wants to do, the people were smart and friendly, and his boss would not be a massive dickhead like Joffrey (although Gendry supposes it’s hard to have a _worse_ boss than Joffrey). And he likes Storm’s End, too. It’s a much smaller city than King’s Landing, and there are avenues lined with huge trees and tiny restaurants.

He starts imagining what it would be like to live there, what it would be like to take the job. He has to admit, it’s a very appealing fantasy.

He waits at home on Friday for a call. They had promised a quick turnaround, but it’s still a surprise when his phone really does ring.

“I got the job!” he yells, bounding into Harrenhal Pub.

“I knew it!” shouts Arya, leaping over the bar to hug him. “Congratulations!”

Gendry pulls her into a kiss. He knows it’s not very professional, but there are only a handful of regulars at the bar and Arya never seems to mind. In fact, she’s the one who reaches down to pinch a handful of his ass.

“Come with me,” Gendry says breathlessly as they pull apart. “The Westeros Civil Liberties Union has an office there, and we can roam around town and find a terrible pub to go to like this one… I…” 

He trails off and his brain seems to catch up with what his mouth has been saying.

Arya’s gaze softens and she pulls him down into a warm kiss. His heart flutters.

“Gendry, I’m so proud of you,” she says quietly. “But I can’t go to Storm’s End. I’m sorry.”

A wave of mortification builds and crashes into him, and he feels faint. Someone at the bar calls Arya over and she turns towards them. Gendry is frozen as she starts to walk away, then he turns and all but runs out of the pub.

What the hell had he been _thinking_? How could he be so stupid? They hook up for _one week_ and he asks her to move halfway across Westeros with him? He feels a familiar fury building within him, but this time it’s only directed at himself.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , he thinks as he stumbles blindly back to his apartment. _You’ve ruined everything_.

Arya texts him that night.

_Arya Stark: You okay?_

Gendry fights the urge to throw up and responds.

_Gendry Waters: Yeah_  
_Sorry_  
_About what I said_  
_That was too much_  
_It was stupid_  
_Nervemind_  
_Sorry_

He practically throws down his phone in frustration. Even in text he just can’t fucking shut up.

_Arya Stark: You should take that job, Gen_  
_I mean it, you’ll be great_

_Gendry Waters: Thanks_

If he cries alone in his room, at least there’s no one around to see it.

 

—

 

Gendry knows that taking the job at Stag Labs was the right decision, even if he does spend the first month moping.

It’s stupid, really. He had known Arya for barely three months and they had only been together for a week, but he misses her all the time. Worse, he can’t stop fantasizing about her. The sexual ones are bad enough, but the ones where she shows up in Storm’s End on his doorstep, ready to pick up where they left off, torture him the most. He wants it to be true so badly it hurts.

But he does like Storm’s End, and his new job is fantastic. He makes friends and his direct supervisor Renly is kind and generous with his praise. 

“Keep it up, and you’ll have my job soon enough,” Renly winks at him. It takes a while for Gendry to take Renly’s compliments as such rather than see them as threats — he’s gotten a little too used to Joffrey’s methods over the years.

Gendry is lucky to find a cheap room in a shared house. He makes enough money to not live with three other guys, but it’s hard to argue with his stingy streak. Besides, he likes his roommates — Anguy, Lem, and Jack — a mismatched trio who liked to call Gendry “The Bull.”

Gendry finds a new pub that’s cozy and warm — Hot Pie’s — and he can’t say that he misses the grim setting of Harrenhal Pub. He just misses his favorite bartender.

She’s texts him a handful of times over the next eight months. Pictures of baskets of fries from Harrenhal Pub, several long conversations about whether or not Keanu Reeves is immortal, even more gifs of Keanu Reeves himself, and a particularly cryptic text six months in:

_Arya Stark: Do you still have friends who work at QB Haptics?_

_Gendry Waters: No, they’re all gone now._  
_Why?_  
_Arya?_  
_???_

A few days later, she sends him a picture of the cave they went to on the beach. Gendry almost smashes his phone against the wall.

Now it’s been eight months since he’s been in Storm’s End and it’s the first truly warm day of spring. As much as Gendry likes his new job, it’s Friday afternoon and he is itching to get outside. So is everyone else, and they cheer when Renly pops his head around the corner and tells them all to take off early. 

Even with the early dismissal, Gendry lingers behind a bit. He does like his new coworkers, but he’s feeling a little prickly today and not up for social niceties. He wants to head home and maybe see if any of his roommates want to sit up on the roof with him. 

He hoists his bag over his shoulder and exits the building, hopping down the stairs. He gets to the bottom and stops short.

There’s a park bench directly in front of the building, right next to the big sign that reads _Stag Labs_ framed by the outline of antlers. Gendry has never seen anyone sit on it, but today there’s a thin, short woman sitting cross-legged, watching him.

She’s wearing those fucking ripped shorts, and it feels like his heart stops.

She unfolds herself gracefully and strides over to him.

“Hello, Gendry.”

“Arya, what are you doing here?”

“Want to get a drink?”

“What? I…yeah. Yeah, okay, a drink.”

She turns, waiting for him to lead them towards the bar.

They walk in silence, Gendry’s feet leading him automatically to Hot Pie’s. The tension stretches between them and Gendry can feel fury building. What the hell was she _doing_  
here? Gendry had fantasized her return a thousand times, but he felt woefully unprepared to see her. All he could feel was shocked anger. She hadn’t told him she was coming, he didn’t even know _why_ she came, and now she didn’t even have anything to say to him? Gendry’s anger boils within him, and he hardly notices the few scared pedestrians who leap from his path upon seeing his expression.

He all but throws himself into the nearest booth as Arya strides over to the bar to get drinks. She brings back two enormous pint glasses and settles in. Wordlessly, she unlocks her phone and slides it to him.

_ Tywin Lannister Arrested; Lannister Inc. Assets Frozen _

_By Margaery Tyrell, Staff Writer_

_KING’S LANDING — Tywin Lannister, founder and CEO of Lannister Inc., was arrested yesterday morning on charges of embezzlement, racketeering, and money laundering. Further accusations of abetting in sex trafficking have been lobbied in conjunction with the recent arrest of Mr. Petyr Baelish last week._

_Prosecutors removed Mr. Lannister from his offices at Lannister Inc. early Thursday morning. The arresting documents indicate that Mr. Lannister stands accused of using company funds for personal profit, including money spent to bribe officials at University of King’s Landing to admit several family members, as well as funds spent on a two lavish weddings and a 70th birthday party for himself._

_The prosecution emphasizes Mr. Lannister’s involvement in racketeering and money laundering in particular. The prosecution alleges that Mr. Lannister instructed several employees to use threats of violence and intimidation in the recent acquisition of land to build a new high-rise tower for Lannister Inc. Furthermore, they allege that his firm has, under Mr. Lannister’s instruction, engaged in the production of malware targeting several other Westeros firms. Mr. Lannister then demanded that these firms pay to have their access to data restored. Several documents seized from Lannister offices under a warrant this morning confirm that Mr. Lannister had knowledge of, and personally oversaw, the construction and distribution of the malware, as well as communication with firms affected._

_Several King’s Landing’s businesses have allegedly served as fronts for money laundering over the past decade, ranging from the Harrenhal Pub and Pycelle Pharmacy to a small robotics firm called QB Haptics. All holdings and assets have been frozen while the investigation is ongoing._

_“People have known about Lannister Inc. and their unfair labor practices for years,” said police Captain Selmy Barriston, leader of the task force against Mr. Lannister, in a statement to the press. “It has been very difficult to prove. Fortunately, we received several documents and recordings from an anonymous informant who was able to provide solid proof that Tywin Lannister has exploited the goodwill of the people, and his power, over the last decade. We shall bring him to justice, and show that King’s Landing will not tolerate this corruption.”_

_When pressed about the connection of Mr. Lannister with Mr. Baelish, accused of sex trafficking, Captain Barristan added, “we believe that there is a connection between the two organizations… We will not be releasing further information on this matter until we have resolved that those victimized by the actions of Mr. Baelish are secure.”_

_In a statement from his lawyer, Mr. Lannister “strongly refutes any and all accusations of wrongdoing.”_

_A further blow to Mr. Lannister’s defense came this morning, as the recordings and documents provided by the anonymous informant have been deemed permissible in a court of law. Lannister’s legal counsel strongly objected that any recordings of Mr. Lannister were made illegally, but this has been ruled out._

_“Mr. Lannister himself ordered the audio and visual recording of several premises under his ownership,” explained Judge Ned Stark. “As such, he was aware that any and all conversations he held in these locations were under surveillance, and the recordings are therefore legally permissible in a court of law.”_

_Mr. Lannister has been released on bail, but remains under house arrest awaiting trial._

 

Gendry stares at Arya, down at the phone, then back at her.

“It was you,” he says slowly. “You were the informant."

Arya says nothing, but takes a long sip of her beer. The foam clings to her upper lip and she licks it away. Gendry feels an onslaught of arousal hit him like a ton of bricks. The anger inside him wars with it, but it’s all washed away by a bolt of fear.

“Arya… what if he knows it’s you?”

“The informant was anonymous,” she says calmly. Gendry knows that’s as close to an admission as he’s ever going to get.

“Joffrey knows you work at Harrenhal. He’ll tell his grandfather and —”

“Joffrey’s dead,” Arya says bluntly.

“ _WHAT?!_ ”

“Alcohol poisoning at a bachelor party.”

Gendry is stunned. 

“Who in their right mind would marry Joffrey?”

“Not _his_ bachelor party, just one of his buddies. Happened about a month after you left King’s Landing. It was in the news, but I guess it didn’t make as much of a splash over here.”

Gendry feels unsettled. As much as he had loathed Joffrey, it was quite another thing to wish him dead. Arya seems to send his unease.

“He also attempted to sexually assault a stripper as he was drinking himself to death.”

Gendry pulls a face. 

“What a fucking shithead.”

“Yes, we all mourn his passing,” says Arya sarcastically. “Anyway, if he had told Tywin I worked there, it would’ve been after I kicked him out of the bar. I assume he was embarrassed to admit I’d shoved him out. And the lackeys he had with him that day aren’t likely to help the Lannisters either. Joffrey’s mom, Cersei, went berserk and tried to sue them all for not preventing Joffrey’s death. It’s been a major shitshow.”

“But… you worked at Harrenhal Pub for a while. Someone’s going to see your name on the payroll and put two and two together and…”

“Gave ‘em a fake name and they paid me under the table anyway. ‘Unfair labor practices’ and all that, right?”

She takes another swig of her beer, watching for his reaction. He lets out a long shaky breath.

“Damn, Arya. This is… this is incredible. I can’t believe you did all this.”

“I had help,” Arya says, shrugging. “The cops were building a case against him for a long time. I just gave them the ammo.”

“Still, it’s… you’ve helped a lot of people with this, Arya. You should be proud. _I’m_ proud of you.” And he means it. 

He feels his anger dissipate. All he had ever wanted was stability and security for himself, and now he had it in Storm’s End. Arya had wanted was justice, and she had found it. How could he begrudge her that? Hadn’t they both gotten what they wanted? 

The problem was he still wanted _her_.

“I got a job,” she says, startling him from his thoughts.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the job?”

“It’s with the Westeros Civil Liberties Union.”

“Wow, Arya… that’s great.”

“Yeah. I need to find a new place though. Got any neighborhood recommendations?”

Gendry frowns. “Well, I haven’t been in King’s Landing in almost a year, but I doubt the neighborhoods have changed that much… I mean, you should avoid FleaBottom for obvious reasons, but —”

“Not King’s Landing,” she interrupts. “Here. In Storm’s End.”

“What?”

“I took a job at the Storm’s End branch.”

Gendry can only blink at her. She eyes him over her beer, waiting for his response.

“I missed you,” he blurts out.

Arya’s shoulders relax. She lets out a long breath and gives him a shy smile.

“I missed you, too,” she admits. “When you asked me to come with you…”

“That was crazy,” he says hastily. “I should never… I’m sorry for saying that. It was too much pressure.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it though,” she says. Gendry freezes, her grey eyes fixed upon him. “I had things to do in King’s Landing, things I had to see through but I wanted… I wanted to go with you.”

“Arya…”

“I get it if I missed my chance,” she continues, straightening in her seat as if to steel herself against rejection. “You don’t ever have to see me again if you don’t want to, but I had to at least try.”

Gendry is stunned.

“Are you crazy?” he says.

A muscle in her face twitches, a flinch preparing for the worst.

“Arya, you’re all I could think about these past few months. Of course… of course I want to be with you. How could I not?”

Arya’s smile shines brighter than the sun.

Later, after all of his roommates have teased him for the extremely loud moaning coming from his room, Gendry returns from the kitchen with a large glass of water.

“Thanks,” says Arya, burrowed under the covers. Gendry slides in next to her. They stare at the ceiling until she speaks again.

“You’re happy here, right? In Storm’s End?”

“Yeah… yeah, it’s good. Better now that you’re here.”

Gendry leans over to kiss her. He can feel her smiling against his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote my first ever sex scene y’all. How do people write lots of these? I kept having to remind myself who was in what position so I didn’t describe something physically impossible. You guys are the real talent out there.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
